Woven Collages

My experiments in paper weaving continue.  The more I work in this medium, the more excited I am about the possibilities for interaction between formal woven structures and painted or photographed imagery.  They can reinforce each other, or disrupt each other, or both.  My imagery right now is inspired by the songbirds I observe, both their bright colors and their songs.  How do you convey birdsong visually? 

Dawn Chorus 1.  weaving 7.5" x 11.75"; overall 12" x 15".  watercolor.  (c) Molly Elkind 2024

Collage-ers gotta collage.  I'm really enjoying juxtaposing multitple papers with different patterns in the same weave.  

 

Dawn Chorus 2.  weaving 12" x 23"; 21" x 31".  acrylic, watercolor. (c) Molly Elkind 2024

Dawn Chorus 2, detail.  weaving 12" x 23; overall 21" x 31".  acrylic, watercolor. (c) Molly Elkind 2024

One of the great advantages of weaving structures in paper is that you are not limited by a specific number of shafts on your loom or by the threading or tie-up.  This kind of weaving is basically a pick-up technique so you can vary each pick at will.  

Four Bluebirds.  weaving 15" x 11.5"; overall 19" x 14".  watercolor, spray paint.  (c) Molly Elkind 2024

One path I'm exploring involves weaving an all-white construction in a particular structure, painting it, unweaving it, and then re-weaving it in a different structure.  The painted image is disrupted and fragmented by the white parts of the strips that show in the new weave, lending a flickering, blurred quality to the image.  I suppose it's a rough sort of ikat. 

Four Goldfinches.  weaving 13" x 15.5"; overall 17" x 21".  watercolor, spray paint.  (c) Molly Elkind 2024

Four Goldfinches, detail.  weaving 13" x 15.5"; overall 17" x 21".  watercolor, spray paint.  (c) Molly Elkind 2024

 

After making a number of small-scale weavings, I took the plunge and ordered a new, larger rotary paper cutter that can cut strips up to 28" long with incredible accuracy.  I am enjoying beginning to work larger.  

When completed, this piece will measure approximately 14.5" x 24.5".  That's the Dahle paper cutter on the right, and my "loom" is now a section of cardboard cut from a large box.  Double-stick tape holds down these "warps."

Perhaps only a tapestry weaver would say that this is a fast process.  But since I first started exploring this technique in early April, I've made 12 pieces I consider worthy of framing and adding to my inventory, as well as a number of studies and samples.  It would take me 1-2 years to weave an equivalent number of tapestries.  And the process of paper weaving, while physically taxing if I do it without breaks (which I now know not to do!) at least stresses different muscles and soft tissues than tapestry weaving does.

For me right now, the possibilities of exploiting the interaction of woven structure, image, and materials is so exciting that I'm developing a new class about it.  Stay tuned--and let me know if you’re interested!

PS.  I really appreciated your comments on last month's post about the pieces you liked best.  Please feel free to weigh in on these too! 

Looking back, looking ahead: time to do the Janus face

Happy New Year, dear friends!  For me, as for you, perhaps, December and January involve some time looking back at the year that's ending, assessing what worked and what didn't in my art and teaching and life in general, and then looking ahead and tweaking my goals and plans for the coming year.  I'm not talking about making resolutions here, but just trying to be thoughtful about how I do what I do, rather than continuing to do the same stuff and hope for a different result (we know how that goes).   Of course if the past two years have taught us anything, it's the futility of making predictions and plans.  Nonetheless, I find it helps to at least have a general destination and a map sketched on a cocktail napkin. 

My word for the year

I've chosen my word for the year and it is now.  A close runner up was mindful, but I'm already tired of hearing that word; it feels too vague to do me much good.  Now has the punch that I hope will snap me  back to the "present moment/wonderful moment" and remind me to do one thing at a time, and pay attention to it with my whole mind while I'm doing it.  If that sounds like a resolution, well, there it is.

Art-wise, I am grateful that 2021 was surprisingly good!  Of course, after 2020, there was nowhere to go but up.  I did tons of teaching, developed and taught five new classes and improved my Zoom teaching game.  This year I want to improve my video shooting and recording skills, finally.  I've also launched my first two online Feedback groups and I'm really excited about those--more on that in a future post.  And with any luck there will be more in-person teaching this year.  You can see my teaching plans HERE.  

Molly Elkind, paper collage--possible design for small piece? (c) 2022

In the studio, I plan to finish the current piece (below) on the big loom and at least one more medium-large piece in the SkyGrass series.  I want to focus on further developing my own tapestry vocabulary of marks, shapes, and formats.  I plan to continue to explore ideas that I sampled last year around collage approaches for tapestry, open warp and eccentric weaving, unusual yarns, and incorporating stitching.  I think weaving small pieces will be a great way to do that.  The collage above is one candidate. 

Molly Elkind, handwoven tapestry in progress, Faraway Nearby (c) 2022 

Speaking of which, note to self:  I need to get a piece going for the ATA "Tiny but Mighty" unjuried small format exhibit next summer in Knoxville.  

Enough about me.  What are your hopes and dreams for this year?  Whatever they are, I hope they all come true! 

Is it good?

In my last post I described my plan to launch online Feedback Groups, small groups of five or six tapestry weavers who would share their work, troubleshoot problems, and give and receive feedback.  These are not formal classes; I'm just facilitating discussion and providing pointers.  I am thrilled to say that I have two full groups scheduled to meet starting in January 2022, and I'm taking names for a third group that I will form a bit later.  Contact me if you'd like to be on that list.  

One of the first things we will try is a method for looking at, understanding and evaluating art that I learned years ago when I did some work in museum education.  It's a four-step process that I have talked about in my classes and in local tapestry groups and I've seen the lightbulbs go off above people's heads many times!  It really does work to help you understand and appreciate professional works of art you might see in a museum . . .  and pieces your fellow weavers do . . .  and your own work.  

So here are the steps, as they might play out in response to one of my own pieces.  Since I wove this tapestry over three years ago, I hope I have enough distance on it to be somewhat objective.  

1:  Describe what you see, in neutral (not judgmental) terms.  To do this, you first have to slow down (stop scrolling on Instagram, or if you're in a museum or gallery, stop walking) and really look at the work.  Then, instead of jumping to the conclusion that you like or don't like the work (as we so often do), instead, describe to yourself or your companion what you see.  What is happening?  How would you describe the figures, shapes, objects, textures, colors etc.?   Again, the point is simply to describe, not to express approval or disapproval at this point.

Molly Elkind, Red Letter Night, 35" x 26", cotton, wool, silk, blends, 2018

When I look at the tapestry, I see a dark background composed of stripes woven in wedge weave.  Some stripes are in a lighter, pinkish color.  On this background are four shapes of different colors and sizes.  The largest shape is a pink trapezoid with dark red parallel lines in it.  There is also an urn shape in blue, a patterned yellow-green shape, and an irregular, square-ish red shape.  Three of the shapes are layered on top of each other.  As I look more closely, I notice that the blue urn and the red square-ish shape have more sheen than the rest of the tapestry.  They are woven in regular plain weave, not in wedge weave like the background.  The top and bottom edges of the tapestry are slightly scalloped. 

2:  Analyze.  How do the things you see and describe relate to each other in the work?  

The mostly dark background is enlivened by the lighter pink stripes and the diagonal lines create a feeling of movement behind the large stationary shapes.  The lighter stripes relate to the color of the largest shape.  The curvilinear pattern in the yellow-green rectangle seems unrelated to other patterns in the piece. The urn shape also feels different, because it is not touching any other shapes and is mostly curved.   

3.  Interpret.  How do the things you see create a mood, feeling or idea in you, the viewer?  What impact does the piece have on you?  Why do you think the artist chose these materials and techniques?  

The dark red parallel lines in that shape remind me of lines of text.  The way three of the shapes are layered suggests a collage of separate shapes.  They form an area of pattern that stands out against the quieter pattern of the background.  The urn shape balances out the composition but it's unclear what its purpose is.  The entire piece remains mysterious in its meaning.   

4.  Evaluate.  Does the piece succeed in what you think it's aiming to do?  Do you like it?  Would you like to see more work by this artist?  

I think this piece is partly successful.  One of my technical goals was to see if I could successfully combine wedge weave and plain weave in the same tapestry, and that seemed to work pretty well.  I also wanted to translate a small paper collage into a large woven piece, and I think that translation was successful.  I struggled with how to render the swirling parallel lines of the collage background in tapestry, finally deciding to "paraphrase" them into wedge weave rather than try to literally reproduce them.  I used silk for the blue shape and some stainless steel yarn in the small red shape, and they provided some interesting contrast in terms of sheen. 

Molly Elkind, paper collage, 12" x 9", commercial and handmade, hand-printed papers, 2018

At the time I was working on a series inspired by medieval illuminated manuscripts, interested in how  brightly colored and densely patterned areas in the center of the "page" contrasted with plainer backgrounds.  I had also just been to Istanbul and was enthralled with arabesque lines and shapes, hence the blue urn shape.  The piece was planned as a companion to a tapestry of the same size called Red Letter Day.  

Molly Elkind, Red Letter Day, 35.5" x 26", cotton, wool, synthetic, 2016

However, Red Letter Night remains opaque in its intention. The reference to illuminated manuscripts is not obvious to most.  Looking at it now, the large pink trapezoid seems arbitrary and rather clumsy to me.  If I were to do it over, I might adjust that shape instead of following the original collage so closely.  

I hope this exercise in looking and evaluating has been useful for you.  For me, the key parts of this process are at the beginning and at the end.  First, you withhold judgment in an attempt simply to spend time looking, really looking at the work.  Then, when you finally do allow yourself to make an evaluation at the end, you know you're basing it on a careful effort to understand the work on its own terms.  This is critical:  just as we ourselves don't like to be judged by standards that we don't agree with, so we shouldn't judge artwork by standards that are irrelevant to the work at hand.  

The question is not, "is this work of art good or bad?"; the question is, "does it succeed on its own terms?" This is a hugely different question!  

Studio Life

My studio life tends to ebb and flow between a focus on teaching and a focus on weaving; one dominates my time and attention for a time while the other takes a back seat.  While my teaching will be revving up again later this month, lately I've been enjoying the chance to focus on weaving.  I've been developing some of the ideas I came up with while designing the big SkyGrass piece I finished a bit ago.  It seems I might have a whole SkyGrass series in the works. 

Here's what's on the floor loom at the moment.  It will be three panels hung side-by-side when it's done.  Two panels are underway right now; the third will be woven last, at the top. 

Untitled, work in progress
Molly Elkind

Maquette/collage of two panels of three-panel piece in progress
Molly Elkind

Here's the original SkyGrass piece:

SkyGrass, 26" x 45".  Linen warp, wool, linen and metallic weft.  8 epi.
(c) Molly Elkind 2021.  Photo by James Hart.

This is a small piece based on a collage of two painted and printed papers.  

SkyGrass Textures collage

SkyGrass Textures tapestry in progress

SkyGrass Textures, 10" x 4.5"  Cotton warp, wool weft.
(c) Molly Elkind 2021

 

I wove two parts separately, one from the bottom up and one from the side, and then collaged them together.  I like the dimensionality and the object-ness of the final tapestry.  

I'm also getting ready for the Eldorado Studio Tour next month, so I got out and hung all the work I might offer.  There's still some editing and re-arranging to be done, and I hope to add a few more small pieces.  

Here's one of those small pieces underway.  I hope to weave at least three of these and plan to mount them in white frames with mats.  

Monsoon collage, 5" x 5"

Monsoon tapestry in progress.  Not quite 5" x 5"!

This one may end up rather wonky in shape; weaving over two-under two has caused some serious draw-in.  Stay tuned!  

This all has me musing about whether I prefer weaving small or weaving large.  They both have their advantages.  Small pieces can be finished more quickly.  But the weaving and the finishing work can be fiddly.  Presentation is really important--usually you can't just hang them from a velcro strip on the wall.  Large pieces, on the other hand, do have an undeniable visual impact--size does matter.  And there's room to stretch out and really settle into weaving a large tapestry, a chance to live and grow with it that I find appealing.  I enjoy weaving at the floor loom and at a sett of 8 epi the weaving feels less fiddly than at the finer sett of smaller pieces.  

Do you prefer weaving small or weaving large--or, as with me, does it depend?  

Percolating, part 1

Our move in April from Georgia to New Mexico came at a natural break point in my tapestry work; I had just finished up two series of work for a show in Atlanta.  Since we moved, I've kept up with my tapestry diary, taken a wonderful workshop with Rowen Schussheim-Anderson, and shot loads of photos, but I haven't been weaving new tapestries until quite recently. 

I've been feeling so gobsmacked by the incredible landscape we're in that I feel I have to figure out how to respond to it somehow before I can do anything else.  As I said to a friend here, a potter and New Mexico native, "I feel like I need to get the landscape out of my system before I can do anything else."  She replied, "You never will."  

I have a feeling she's right.  I've identified several themes or subjects on my walks and hikes so far that seem to have staying power, and I want to explore them all in tapestry.  Right now, all at once. 

The first is the amazing, huge, ever-changing sky.  There's a saying that in the West the sky starts at your ankles.  

I'm already depicting the sky in a limited way in my tapestry diary, weaving a stripe that represents the color of the sky each morning.  When we moved, I made the tapestry wider (taller) to indicate the magnitude of the move and the "bigger" sky out here.  

Molly Elkind, Tapestry Diary 2018, January-March

Molly Elkind, Tapestry Diary 2018, April-August

But I want to do more with the sky.  I've got some sketches for a wedge weave piece that I envision fairly small, at 10 epi or so, in DMC cotton floss.  

I think I can probably just dive into one of these wedge weave designs fairly easily.  (Famous last words!)  I'm hoping to use the diagonal movement of the wedge weave to suggest the movement of the air and clouds somehow. 

I'm also thinking of using images of the clouds and sky in combination with other images.  Here's a photograph with a chalk drawing of a yucca seed pod superimposed.  This needs a lot more development, obviously, but it might have potential.  

  

Percolating, percolating. . . collaging, sketching, photographing. . . Next week I'll share another of the themes I'm pondering.  As always, comments and feedback are welcome!  Tell me what's percolating for you!

Blowing the lid off the tapestry box (part 1 of 2)

I've recently been mulling over the familiar metaphor of working "inside (or outside) the box" with regards to tapestry.  Last month I had the great pleasure of taking a week-long workshop with tapestry artist and art professor Rowen Schussheim-Anderson at the American Tapestry Alliance's retreat in Reno, Nevada.  I was excited by the promise of learning to use mixed materials and techniques, including collage (already one of my favorite approaches to design) in tapestry.  I am still excited and still exploring the possibilities.

It was fun to be introduced to so many new-to-me techniques, including weaving a window in the surface of the tapestry, adding novelty yarns, adding on surface embellishments such as wrapped and coiled pipe cleaners and bits of clothesline, and twining, crochet and beadwork techniques as part of the woven surface. Rowen told us our workshop weaving would not be a coherent work of art, and she was right, at least in my case.  It's a funky little thing, but it will be a good reminder to me of some of the things we tried.

Molly Elkind, mixed media sample from Rowen Schussheim-Anderson workshop, 2018.
That's my painted paper in the window.  

Speaking of funky little experiments, another thing we did was add large stitched marks to previous tapestries we may have done that we were not happy with.  I really liked the energy and added texture that stitches added to this very early tapestry of mine.  I'm definitely keeping this in mind for future work.

Molly Elkind, Pedernal study

We also did a number of sketchbook exercises including an approach to collage that I haven't tried before.  For me this involved enlarging a section of a topo map and using it as a template for a cut and pasted paper design.  I had always built up my collaged compositions intuitively on a blank sheet of paper, so this was a more challenging method.

Molly Elkind, paper collage from Rowen Schussheim-Anderson workshop, 2018

While I'm not sure the overall composition quite succeeds, I think some of these cropped details could make interesting small experiments. (To find them I cut 4x6" and 6x8" rectangles out of the center of sheets of white paper, forming makeshift frames.)

The most eye-opening thing for me about Rowen's workshop was simply being given permission to think outside the box, to let go of traditional notions of pure tapestry:  warp faced, using mostly wool wefts, perfectly flat and straight-edged.  My tapestry teachers up to now have been incredibly gifted practitioners of this traditional approach, and so I have worked within those parameters.  But I love the idea that a tapestry can itself be a collage, with various disparate and surprising elements layered and juxtaposed.  I've been saying to friends that Rowen's workshop "blew the lid off my traditional tapestry box."

Tune in next week to find out how my thinking did a 180 when I heard Irvin Trujillo's comments on working inside the box. 

At the loom again, finally!

The studio has been unpacked for awhile, and I have been faithfully weaving my tapestry diary, but until last week I hadn't actually started a new tapestry.  One of the things I love most about our new place is that the windows are open all the time and New Mexico winds blow through . . . all the time.  Since my last studio was in a window-less basement, I am loving the airflow.

That's the working title of this new small piece, Airflow.  It's more of a study than anything, and a sample for the class I'm teaching at Convergence next month about using collage to design for tapestry.

Here is the collage I started with, along with the cartoon, the array of yarns and the yarn wrap, and barely visible at top left, my list of "20 Things I know about this piece" (thank you, Kathe Todd-Hooker), even if I did come up with only 11.  Did I mention it's a small piece (12" x 6")?  For some reason I left the blue yarns out of the photo.  But I am loving the gradations available from Weaver's Bazaar.  

Add caption

One fun thing I'm experimenting with this time is using the same yarn for both warp and the background of the image (it's Davidson Corporation's "Navaho warp", a Churro wool available at Earth Guild in Asheville, NC.)  I was inspired by painter David Hockney's early practice of leaving blank canvas visible in his paintings, and I wanted to try to translate this idea into tapestry.

Here are some progress shots.

I'm breaking up the background with slightly curved lines of eccentric weaving that go from selvage to selvage.  Those lines indicate the airflow.  You can't see it in the photos, but for these lines I'm combining two strands of shiny translucent metallic yarn from Giovanna Imports with the Churro warp.

I am so enjoying being back at the loom.  I hope you are finding time to weave--or whatever gets your own creative juices flowing--this June!

A reminder:  there is still some room in my two-day workshop at Convergence called Collage to Tapestry Cartoon.  Find out more and sign up HERE.  The supply list is  minimal since we'll be focusing on design rather than weaving.  I'd love to see you there!

Continuing the Conversation: Using Collage to Design Tapestry

It was so exciting to see so many interested and interesting comments on my post for the ATA Blog Tour last week.  This week I want to respond to some of the themes that came up in your comments.

Clearly, many of us, especially newer weavers, are looking for ways to design our work that don't rely on experience with drawing or painting.  There is so much more to say on this subject!  But for now, let me just say this:

First, many very accomplished weavers do design work by painting and drawing, obviously.  Some of the tapestries I admire most have the look of drawings or paintings.  I enjoy seeing how the drawn line, the gestural mark, translates into tapestry.

Thomas Cronenberg, Missing Home
handwoven tapestry 138.4" x 39.5"
cotton, wool, silk, linen

I also enjoy seeing how layers of translucent watercolor can be interpreted in tapestry. 

Jo Barker, Dark Shimmer
75 x 87 cm
wool, cotton, embroidery threads

I have learned the hard way, though, that it takes skill and experience to know how to translate (that word again) a painting effectively into woven tapestry.  One has to keep constantly in mind what tapestry does best and what it should not be forced to do.  That's why, for me, collage has been so useful as a design strategy.

Second, drawing and painting skills are not something we are either born with or not born with.  They can be learned, through practice and patience!  Many of us are tempted to let ourselves off the hook by saying we just weren't born with this or that talent, and I'm here to say that's bullhockey.  Again and again in my 20-odd years of doing fiber art, I have realized that basic drawing or sketching skills are just the quickest, easiest way to get an idea down on paper--and I've regretted that my own skills aren't more developed than they are.  You don't have to make museum-quality drawings, you don't have to make drawings you'll show anyone else--just get down something that makes sense to you and moves your design forward.  The sketch below was based on a selfie that is so unattractive I will not share it here. 

Molly Elkind, preparatory sketch for Mater Dolorosa

 I often use drawing in conjunction with collage to fully develop a design. 

Molly Elkind, preparatory collage for Mater Dolorosa

Several of you mentioned last week how you know you should make samples, you just hate doing it.  I get it!  You've got a design, you've got your yarns picked out and your loom warped and you just want to start weaving.  Why bother to stop and make a sample?  Well, in your heart of hearts you probably know why. . . but to recap:

1. You get a chance to see how those yarns you've picked really weave at the sett you've chosen.  
2. You get a chance to see how those yarns' colors and textures actually look when you weave them next to each other.
3. You get a chance to practice weaving the tricky parts of the design or practice new techniques.
4. If you don't like how your initial choices are weaving up, you can try something new, on your sample. 

I did the sample below to test all these points before starting the actual piece.  

Molly Elkind, sample for Mater Dolorosa

The fundamental point is this.  Sure, you can skip doing samples.  But. . . 

How much do you like unweaving on your "real" piece?  

Molly Elkind, detail, Mater Dolorosa 
wool, cotton  (c)2017

Here is where I insert a shameless plug  reminder that you can take a deeper dive into how to use collage to develop a cartoon in a two-day workshop with me at Convergence this summer.  Click HERE for more information. 

And thanks to each of you who read and commented on last week's post.  I am grateful.